


That you will never have what you are trying to hide

by Lestradesexwife



Series: Prompt fills and Random Plot Bunnies. [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Magical Artifacts, Magical Realism, vague references to stargate, which may or may not be relevant later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another prompt from Aria, </p><p>Character 1 Lestrade     Character 2    Irene       RatingGen     Genre Magical Realism      Location  Baskerville Labs      Prompt  Explosions</p><p>This one has given me IDEAS.</p><p>loosely based in the j/g/s verse. but definitely not part of the main fic... I just cannot write greg without the other two... or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That you will never have what you are trying to hide

It hadn’t been a surprise, at least not for Greg. With everything else and the baseline of sibling rivalry between Sherlock and Mycroft it had never come up. Greg had been there when Sherlock had recounted the story of Irene’s rescue, John’s lips pressed together until he had finished.

 

Mycroft calling to say that Irene had, well that she was being accommodated at Baskerville. That she was in possession of something. And that she was refusing to talk to anyone but Greg. Well those things could all be categorized as surprising. They’d never met, Sherlock was furious, he wanted to question her himself. Greg had placed a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, and flicked his eyes over to John. Even Sherlock had been able to see how not good it was for him to be alone in a room with “the Woman.”

 

Greg wasn’t entirely sure why it was alright in John’s mind for GREG to be in a room alone with the woman, and he wasn’t entirely looking forward to it. Which he privately acknowledged was likely why John didn’t seem to mind him visiting a professional dominatrix.

 

She was being held at Baskerville because whatever she had was apparently so highly classified that Mycroft didn’t even have clearance for it. Which made Sherlock unspeakably happy, since it turned out that Mycroft’s position actually was ‘minor’ after all.

 

It was apparently also so sensitive that they were prepared to grant her every wish. Or at least the one that involved Greg being her contact.

  
  


They were escorted in, and John smiled a wicked smile that Greg wanted to kiss from his face. And he found out later was due to the entire military leadership of Baskerville having been replaced. The elevator whisked them down, and at one point Greg thought his ears had popped.

 

She was in an entirely white room, there was a table and two chairs and the light didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular but everywhere at once. Greg knew that John was watching him over the closed circuit cameras, even though he could not see the camera he knew there was one in each corner of the room.

 

“Hello, I hear you wanted to speak to me.”

Irene smirked, somehow managing to remind Greg of a large feline, despite the lack of makeup and the plain white scrubs she was wearing, he noted that she did not have shoes of socks, and her toe nails were a bright red, making her look like she had blood on her claws. “John would have told me to sod off, if he was feeling polite. Big brother won’t let me within 400 meters of Sherlock… But if I asked for you, well. How could you resist? It is lovely to meet you Detective Inspector. I’ve heard ever so much about you.”

 

“And it has been lovely, nice little holiday in Dartmoor, but I shan’t play your game Miss Adler. You know what they want to know so spill so we can all get back to our lives. I  _think_  they  **might**  even let you see the sky again, if this is over quickly.”

****

Irene smiles, and it is in no way pleasant, Greg shifts in his seat, suddenly conscious of the fact that this woman may very well spend the rest of her life in this tiny room. He tries to remember all the things that she has done, that she is in some small or large part, brought about Sherlock’s fall.

****

Which did nothing at all to stop him feeling sorry for her now.

****

She sighed and shifted back on her chair. “I don’t see what they see in you, no sense of anticipation.” She lifted a shiny silver chain from around her neck and settled the stone over the shirt. “I was in America, and honestly I never intended to… well they are all so eager to show off there. They have this amazing top secret base, in a mountain of all things. He was delicious, all biceps and no brains, just a distraction really. But the pillowtalk. Such fantastic stories, and of course he just wasn’t smart enough to be making it up. So I told him to bring me something.” She shifts again and runs her fingers over the chain. “It’s very pretty, they tell me it is nothing they can identify. It won’t come off though. Which isn’t really my style.”

****

“Wait, so you conned some American into giving you an alien necklace and it won’t come off… where do I fit in?”

****

“Well, obviously I got bored, and then I heard that Sherlock was back… and who better to get it off me? Anyway, apparently Heathrow has some interesting detection devices in the scanners. And here I am.”

****

“So this is about Sherlock?” Greg made to stand up and leave. He wasn’t going to put Sherlock into this woman’s path again, even indirectly. He was facing away from Irene when she launched herself silently from the table, latching herself onto Greg’s back. He had just a moment to register the slide of the pendent over the nape of his neck when there was an explosion of light and colour, and where had the orchestra come from?

****

It really shouldn’t have happened like that, the sliding under and waking up again. To John shouting his name, but from very far away. He groaned, and shifted against the floor. How had he ended up here and why were his feet cold? He shifted, dragging himself up to a seated position.

****

He blinked several times, clearing his vision and trying to adjust to the brightness in the room. “John,” He cleared his throat and tried again, thinking that whatever Irene had done had affected his vocal cords, or maybe his ears. “John,” He shook his head and tried to stand, and pulling his feet under him he finally understood why his feet felt cold. “Fuck, what in the actual hell?”

****

He looked down at his feet, and wiggled his toes. There was nothing strange, they felt completely normal, everything moved exactly as it should. Only his feet were bare and his toe nails were painted bright red.

****

John was across the room kneeling over the body that he had seen in the mirror this morning at the Cross Keys. Gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name, trying to wake him up.

****

“John, god what the hell did she do? John.” Greg felt the sudden desire to stomp his foot, something he had never ever done or desired to do before. John was ignoring him, well, no not really, John was tending to his body, Greg’s brain was across the room and apparently inhabiting Irene’s body. Fuck, did that mean that Irene was inside Greg’s head? He took a deep breath and focused on the back of John’s head.

****

“Doctor Watson,” It was unnerving to hear his intonations and wording being spoken in Irene’s silky smooth voice. “John,” He stopped to consider, he needed something that John would pay attention to something that would only be known to him and Greg. The only thing he could think of that was private enough was John’s safeword, and he took a moment to curse not having one himself. Well if he got out of this, he would think of one. “John,” John’s head finally turned, and he was on the edge of speaking when Greg said, “Toothpaste. John. Toothpaste.”

****

John froze, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What did Greg say when he came back?”

****

“He’s in my chair, and I’m not dead or hallucinating.” Greg coughed, some part of his mind trying to clear his throat, to make his voice sound more like his voice. “I don’t think I am dead, but I hope to fuck that I am hallucinating.”

****

John stood and abandoned Greg’s body on the floor, Irene was stirring behind Greg’s eyes and Greg allowed himself to relax, whatever Irene had done hadn’t done any damage to Greg’s body. It was fucking weird, but, if they were both alive there was a good chance that everything could be reversed. Greg was not. going. to. panic.

****

Fuck.


End file.
